When I was a teenager, I aspired to be a wildlife artist. During frequent trips to the Burnsville Mall, I would always stop to admire the works of artists I admired—painters like David Maass and Robert Bateman. Then one day, I came across the work of Manfred Schatz—and I was floored.

Manfred took a completely different approach from the tightly rendered wildlife art that dominated the 1980s. His style was looser, even impressionistic. But what struck me most was how he treated motion as a subject in itself. When he painted a duck in flight, he didn’t depict every feather as a camera would. He painted the wings as they appear to the human eye—blurred, alive, in motion.

Years later, another one of my artistic heroes, Richard Schmid, wrote in his classic book Alla Prima that motion can be just as much a subject as form, light, or detail. That idea has stayed with me. It’s a philosophy I’ve embraced in my own work for many years now.

In my recent painting Saber Rattler, I made every effort to combine motion with the structure and light of the subject. Not as loose as Manfred Schatz (he was very loose), yet the edges in this piece are softened in areas where movement would naturally occur. It was important to me that the painting not feel static, but instead full of energy—like something is about to happen.

After reading many firsthand accounts from 19th-century Native Americans—such as Plenty Coups and Black Elk Speaks—I’ve long been intrigued by the feeling of being charged by a warrior or a group of warriors. That sense of having nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. My goal was to give the viewer a taste of that experience—without the danger of actually being in it.

Saber Rattler captures a powerful moment of fierce resistance as a Lakota warrior charges forward. Dressed in traditional regalia—including a hairpipe breastplate and feathered headdress—his expression of raw intensity is framed by a mountainous backdrop and a dust-filled atmosphere. The interplay of light and shadow evokes a sense of unstoppable momentum, as if the viewer is directly in the path of history reclaiming its voice.

The saber—likely taken from a fallen cavalryman—serves as both a literal and symbolic weapon in the hands of the warrior, embodying the grit and spirit of the Plains Indians who fought to protect their way of life. From the flared nostrils of the horse to the tattered edges of the warrior’s sleeves, each brushstroke adds emotional tension. This piece is not only a tribute to individual bravery, but to the broader story of cultural survival and resistance.

Saber Rattler

Oil, 24x18

Click here to see more of my historical Native American work.

If pieces like this interest you, the Insiders Group is where I share the research and field trips behind each painting, along with first access to new work as it's finished. Join here.

The tipi was the primary shelter for many of the nomadic Plains Indians. The word tipi comes from the Dakota words ti (to dwell) and pi (used for). The materials used to make a tipi include bison hide, poles, pegs, pins, and rope.

Anywhere from 16 to 20 bison hides (preferably cow hides) were needed to make a tipi, which averaged around 14 feet in diameter. The hides were braintanned and smoked to a pale yellow to prevent hardening from rain. This smoking produced a beautiful, translucent glow inside the tipi and would reveal any designs that had been painted on the outside.

Lodgepole pine, which tends to be very straight and stiff, was the preferred tree to use for tipi poles. The length of the poles would vary depending on the size of the tipi. To obtain wood to make poles, tribes living on treeless plains would have to journey every several years to areas that contained lodgepole pines.

Spring was the best time to harvest wood for poles  because the flowing sap made the bark easier to peel. After the bark was peeled the poles would be dried for several weeks and then smoothed of any rough spots that may damage the bison hide covering. The significant effort put into making poles made them a valuable commodity,  and a full set could be worth two good horses. One of the worst punishments a family could endure was the destruction of their tipi poles.

Ghost Village by Jason Tako

A family tipi usually belonged to the woman and was set up, torn down, and maintained by the woman. It could be set up in around 15 minutes and taken down in 3 minutes. This was advantageous in situations when approaching enemies would force the camp to break and move quickly.

The circular shape of the tipi represented the universe, with the outside of the tipi representing the creator’s domain. The outside designs were usually the result of a dream. People would refrain from painting objects on their tipi that another person saw in a dream.

There are two main types of tipis, three pole and four pole. One of the main differences between these two types was whether the smoke flaps had pockets or holes in which the poles would be inserted into. On three-pole tipis the poles were inserted into pockets on the flaps; on four-pole tipis the poles were passed through holes on the smoke flaps. Getting the poles into or through the smoke flaps was a difficult task. Once the poles were inserted, the flaps could be easily adjusted to draw smoke out from the lodge.

Three-pole tipis tended to be sturdier thank four-pole tipis, which required exterior ropes to prevent collapsing during heavy winds. Also, on three-pole tipis the cone tilts further back.

Below is a list that shows which Plains Tribe used which type of tipi.

Tribes that used three-pole tipis included:

Sioux

Mandan

Cheyenne (both Southern and Northern)

Kiowa

Arapaho

Assiniboin

Ariakara

Pawnee

Shoshoni

Wichita

Plains Ojibwa

Plains Cree

Yakima

Oto

Ponca

Tribes that used four-pole tipis included:

Blackfeet

Crow

Flathead

Nez Perce

Ute

Comanche

Hidatsa

Sarsi

Kutenai

Click here to see more of my historical Native American work.

If pieces like this interest you, the Insiders Group is where I share the research and field trips behind each painting, along with first access to new work as it's finished. Join here.

As the eagle's-feather head-dress is the acme of all personal adornment, so the shield is the head and front, the topmost summit of warlike paraphernalia. On it he bestows infinite patience, care and thought. Not only must it be perfect in shape, in fit, in make, but also in its "medicine." He thinks it over, he works it over, he prays over it; to its care and protection he commends his life... it occupies a conspicuous but safe place in his lodge, and is hung out every fair day in front of his door; it is his shield, his protector, his escutcheon, his medicine, almost his God.  -Colonel Richard Irving Dodge, 33 Years Among Our Wild Indians

In the pre-horse days it was reported that shields were larger, possibly around 3 feet across. They became around half that size when mounted warfare was the norm and could be anywhere from twelve to twenty six inches in diameter. Shield were usually made from the thick rawhide of a bison bull's neck or back right behind the head. The rawhide was pegged into the ground over a pit of hot stones and shrunk to around half in diameter and a thickness of half an inch to an inch and then trimmed to a circular shape.

The shield usually had symbols painted on it and was blessed by a medicine man, through a series of prayers and war songs. The cost to obtain this ceremonial blessing was usually at least one horse, which meant that most poor Indians didn't posses a shield, but rather may have substituted during battle with a buffalo robe (hair attached) wrapped around their left arm. For the Indian, not only was it the symbols on the shield that gave it its power, but its entire construction as well. At times the symbols on a shield may represent a vision that the warrior had; other times they may reflect membership in a certain society.

According to The Horse in Blackfoot Indian Culture by John Ewers, shields were used in scalp raids but never taken on horse raids. This makes sense since horse raids were usually started on foot and participants packed light. While a direct blow could puncture a shield, if struck at an angle the hide was tough enough to deflect arrows, lances, and even smoothbore balls depending on the range. Given the tremendous amount of faith a warrior would place in his shield, it was an extra honor for an enemy to be able to count coup or take down the warrior armed with his shield.

Shields could be embellished with feathers, cloth streamers, bells, and even small, stuffed animals and birds. For the artist, this gives a lot of options for making a beautiful painting. When it's appropriate, I love having a shield in a painting. They can help designate the tribe that is being portrayed, and the symbols and other items give extra meaning to the scene. I also think it brings out the child in me, the child that was fascinated with medieval knights who also possessed shields.

Click here to see an example of one of my works with a of ceremonial shield.

If pieces like this interest you, the Insiders Group is where I share the research and field trips behind each painting, along with first access to new work as it's finished. Join here.

Greetings!

I thought I would start my first blog post by answering the question of why I paint historical Native American subject matter. The question that usually follows is, "Are you Native American?" or, "Do you have any Native American in you?". The answer to both of these questions is no. I don't even like going down this road given how race has sadly become such a contentious and delicate subject in recent times, but after doing several genetic tests it was confirmed that I'm just a European mutt.

So why do I paint historical Native American subject matter? The answer is ultimately aesthetics. I started out as a wildlife and landscape artist. The reason being I grew up in rural Minnesota around a bunch of blue-collar hunters and fisherman. But even back then I always loved the human figure and thought it's one of the most beautiful things God had ever created. I also loved the shape of a human on a horse. It always struck me as very noble and pleasing, slightly resembling a cross with incredible variety.

I also had an interest in history. Growing up in rural Minnesota I was surrounded by the remnants of American Indian culture. Most of the towns nearby had Indian names, such as Owatonna, Waseca, Shakopee, and even the name Minnesota which comes from two Dakota terms which when combined means "clear, blue water."

I was always intrigued by how the Indians of the past lived so close to nature. Add onto that my love for the American west. I first went out west in 2011 and since then I've had a fascination with that part of the United States. Naturally, I started researching the history of the Native Americans of the west with great interest.

So why not paint cowboys? After all, they were human, rode horses, were out west, and were an integral part of American history. Plus, I could easily avoid any accusations of appropriation. I guess the answer is because I've always loved the Indian's closeness with nature. This is the wildlife-artist-side of me. I like nature, and the Native Americans were closer to it than the cowboys. I also find the Native Americans to be more aesthetically pleasing. The incredible variety of regalia, warpaint, feathers, and even the incorporation of European-made articles gives the artist so much more to play with.

Some have implied that since I'm not Native American I shouldn't paint Native Americans. I totally disagree. I do not think that one needs to have a certain amount of DNA of any particular group of people in order to appreciate and paint that group of people anymore than one needs to be a tree in order to paint trees. If I find something beautiful I will paint it, and I find the Native American people to be beautiful, therefore I paint them.

I also hope that my artwork will awaken people to the history, beauty, and struggle of the American Indian. This struggle still goes on, even to this day. There is much poverty on many of the Indian reservations which we should help relieve, and I feel it's important for the Indian Nations to maintain their history and culture. I hope that my artwork can in some small way contribute to this and to the preservation of the American Indians and the history of our Nation.

Click here to see my historical Native American work.

If pieces like this interest you, the Insiders Group is where I share the research and field trips behind each painting, along with first access to new work as it's finished. Join here.